Dear lady with the big SUV…

My day at work was long. We turned back the clocks – it’s dark and I
was feeling cranky.  I pulled onto the street by daycare and saw your
big gas guzzler parked in the handicapped spot. I parked on the street
and walked past your car on my way in.

No handicapped sticker hanging from the mirror…

Just an oversized black purse spilling out on the passenger seat.  A
purse no girl in a chair or using crutches would want to haul. No way.
 I could have curled in a ball and climbed inside that thing.

I started to feel really mad.

After greeting my son and making our way back outside, there you were.  Strong legs.  Big boots.  Young and healthy.

Maybe your day sucked too.  Maybe you were feeling lazy or had to go to the bathroom really bad.  Perhaps you were conserving energy so you could Drop It Like It’s Hot and rock it Gangnam Style at the club this weekend.

I don’t know your story.

I do know that you quickly shut your door and wouldn’t look me in the
eye.  So I knocked on your window.  I thought I should point out how
you were illegally parked.  You played dumb so I felt inclined to point
out the large handicapped sign
about five feet from your face.  If I had guts I would have also
pointed out that I confronted you on this same thing like 6 months ago.

You just shrugged and shut your door.

I walked away and was mad.  I went from mad to steaming.  On my way
home it morphed into a wave of embarrassment over the reality that I
just confronted a fellow mom at my son’s school.  This was quickly
replaced with disgust.

Your laziness and lack of compassion for others leaves me speechless.
You are teaching your son to break laws, bend rules and put his needs
before others.  

It’s been three days and I’m still fuming.  So I’m writing you this letter.

Until we meet again {with you illegally parked},

chick fight!

Today was one of those days. When you just want to go back to bed. But you can’t – you have to suck it up and go about your day.

My headband totally gave me a headache. It seemed cute at home and really lame in the bathroom at work. Not worthy of a headache so I took that baby off and dealt with weird smooshed hair.

The stitching on the elastic band of my cute flats broke. So before I left work I did what any normal person would do, I grabbed the stapler off my desk and did my own quick “fix” to get me home.  Sigh.

I got to daycare and planned to take the handicapped spot in hopes of avoiding extra steps and having staples stab my foot. Tuesday is just too early in the week to deal with blood.

Parked in the handicapped spot was a seemingly healthy, young woman sporting leggings, tall boots and taking her sweet time buckling in her child. It was obvious that she was parked there out of sheer laziness. I instantly hated her.

Maybe it was my headache. Or the fact I had to go to the bathroom insanely bad. Perhaps my despair over my shoe. Fear of the staples puncturing my flesh.

I like to think it was a combo of it all. I wanted to turn into Hulk or a WWE wrestler. I had crazy urges of running up to her and knocking her down, pulling her hair and calling her lazy. I’d dent in her car door with my super hero strength and run away and hide in my car.

Rest easy, none of this happened. I parked on the street and walked.

I must confess I took a picture of her car. Made me feel better, like I was going to send it to the police department and they’d stop over at her house and school her on how to be a good person…

Looking forward to a fresh start tomorrow. As for tonight, I’m sending myself to bed.